Already the soldiers were drawn out before the castle. The five musketeers who were commissioned to carry the sentence into execution stood in advance, their muskets in hand. Montressor took his place.
“Kneel,” said Cromwell.
“Yes, to heaven,” was the reply.
“Stay,” exclaimed the general, as he rushed forth in a burst of tenderness. The condemned youth started joyfully up. Hope was kindled.
“Young man, I love thee as a son. Take my embrace,” and he threw his arms around Montressor. “Look—for no other but you, a dying man, must see Cromwell weep!—Look at these tears. Now, my son. Yes, my very son, farewell!”
Montressor sunk upon his knees in despair. He waved his hand to the musketeers, and soon their duty was performed.
Cromwell himself raised the lifeless body, and sternly said to the soldiers,
“Let all, let each beware! Justice and duty are unrelenting, even to the brave and the beloved!”